Stoutwell - Case 2: Burning Down the House
by Raccoonfg
Summary: Officer Stoutwell, the second raccoon to ever join the ZPD, is still stuck as a filing clerk after the events of his last case. However, he gets a second chance to prove himself when he's presented with a missing mammal case that the ZPD is too busy to handle. And when he finds that there's so much more to it than he realized, he has no other choice than to count on the help of an
1. Chapter 1

The florescent lights buzzed endlessly like a swarm of lazy bees as they shone their sterile luminescence over the room, reflecting off the dull green concrete walls, tinting the morose koala's fur with a sickly pallor.

"I'm going to die in here," Melvin Qantas croaked from the other side of the wired glass window, cradling a black phone handset by his head.

"You don't know that," Seth sat on the opposite side, holding his own handset. It had been a while since he last visited his former colleague, and the harshness of prison life was clearly taking its toll on him. The friendly and affable police officer he once knew was now an emotional wreck; the fur around his eyes were wet and matted; his movements were small and trembling. And while he didn't resemble the mammal he knew, there was still something uncomfortably familiar that weighed on Seth's mind. "Have you talked to your lawyer about the plea-"

"They're all dead, Seth," Qantas cut him off. "The plea is off the table."

"What?"

"Got the news yesterday. Cherry, the last of them, she, ah…" Qantas' mouth shifted and yawed wordlessly for a moment, trying to recollect his voice. "She was stabbed by a bunch of prey supremacists over in the female ward." His eyes darted briefly away from their fixation on the floor to glance at Seth. "During lunch. Apparently."

"Christ," Seth rubbed his brow in disbelief. "First Codler, then Maria… There isn't anything else you could give them? Anything at all?"

No reply came back from the other side; he just sat there in his prison jumpsuit, looking lifeless and lost.

"Well maybe we can get you a better lawyer. Someone from my dad's parish. If they can convince the court you were coerced-"

"No," Qantas finally spoke up. "There's nothing left to try. Just… Just forget about me." Without another word, he hung up the handset and mouthed to the guard that he was finished with his visitation. Seth just helplessly sat there; watching as Qantas was slowly escorted away and disappeared behind a green metal door.

As he walked back through the prison's halls the chain of events that followed the drug bust rumbled around in his mind like indigestible thoughts. It had felt like things should have been simpler; Qantas would have given the District Attorney any evidence and testimony necessary to put away Codler and the remaining two sisters, and he'd walk away a free mammal. Sure, his career would have been over, but he'd still get to be with his family.

So how did things go so wrong?

"Excuse me sir, but you need to sign out."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to see a badger prison guard standing behind a counter, holding up a pen with an impassively dour look on his face. Seth had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly walked past the visitor's desk without marking his departure in the ledger. Uttering a quick apology, he trotted up to retrieve the pen that was aloofly offered to him and proceeded to sign his name and time of exit next to where he had clocked in earlier. Glancing over the preceding names on the page, he noticed that a Matilda Qantas had visited a few hours earlier.

Melvin's wife.

Seth sucked on his teeth, now understanding just how shook up the poor koala really was. It must've been painful to tell her the news; to say that he may never see their child outside these concrete walls. Handing back the pen, Seth cursed himself internally for coming here and rubbing salt in an open wound with his weak optimism.

It wasn't fair. Codler should've been the one locked away here, not Qantas. Instead they found the coyote dangling in his holding cell, wearing a noose made from his own shirt. It didn't matter if he did it out of shame or fear; he took the coward's way out and left Qantas high and dry.

When he finally made his way out the prison doors and stepped back into the open air, he took a long, deep breath, clearing out the stale oxygen that had filled his lungs. To his right was the prison yard, where various mammals in orange jumpsuits casually played catch behind tall wire fencing. In front of him was an expansive parking lot, barely filled with the few cars that the prison staff took to work. Past the desolate blacktop was the sheltered bus stop that he had arrived at earlier. Seth's visit was cut shorter than he had expected, and there wasn't any rush to meet the next bus, so he just casually strolled along the path that ran parallel to the gated yard, allowing himself to retreat back to his contemplation as the chatter of the inmates blended together into a white noise of voices. Like oil, the news of Cherry's death continued to sit on the surface of his thoughts.

Cherry Capek. Last of the Capek sisters.

It was strange. He hadn't known they were sisters, let alone named Capek, until it came up during a conversation with Detective Atkins a week after the incident at the warehouse. That fateful evening he had crossed paths with them for the first and last time made such an impact on their lives, and yet he barely knew a thing about them. How can you sign someone's death warrant without even knowing their full name?

Sure, it was easy to say he didn't kill them personally; that it was Codler who killed Pris, Cherry who killed Maria, and convicts who killed Cherry. But there was still this sour pit in his gut that said the three of them would have been alive today if he didn't climb that pipe. If he had only walked away and reported his suspicions to Atkins, maybe he wouldn't have had all this collateral damage weighing on his mind. But maybe Atkins wouldn't have listened, and Marlon Atria's murder would have gone unsolved. How could he feel like he did both the right thing and the wrong? Still walking along the fence, Seth shook his head, wondering if this was the sort of Catholic guilt that Father Sekakwa warned him about when he was young.

"Hey Trevor, over here!"

The sound of the name cut through the air, severing Seth from his introspective trance and stopping him dead in his tracks.

Trevor.

It was only a name, but he already felt his stomach turning and his body trembling, just from hearing it.

Trevor.

Seth found himself gripping his left forearm; his paw tightly wrapped around the scar tissue. He knew there was a chance that— No, it must've just been a coincidence. Another inmate with the same name. Not him.

Not Trevor.

Air went in and out of his nose in fits as he struggled to face the prison yard. Every fibre of his instincts told him to look away and run, but he had to know, he had to prove that it wasn't him. That it was some other mammal.

And there he was.

Standing at the far end of the yard, with his back to Seth, was a fox in an orange jumpsuit. His fur was red like fire. Seth could feel those flames burning the bare marks that littered his body. But still he kept his feet firm on the ground, insisting that it was all in his head. Just another fox. Not him.

Not him.

Stoutwell deeply wished it was true, but that hope was all for naught when the fox turned his head. He wasn't looking in Seth's direction, but he didn't have to for him to see his eyes.

His cruel yellow eyes.

They sat in his skull like two amber orbs, and glimmered as he grinned at some joke one of the inmates was telling. His thin black lips peeled back, revealing a row of jagged teeth, and his jaw hinged open, unleashing a burst of piercing laughter. Every little shrill chortle that erupted from his mouth dug deep into Seth, and wrenched out painful memories that tore at his resolve.

Everything was spinning, and he couldn't take another moment of it. His feet loosened from the concrete path, as if some great magnet finally lost its grip on him, and he dashed as quickly as he could across the parking lot, heading towards the bus stop. Towards an escape.

He was barely halfway there when his legs buckled and wobbled out of control, sending him teetering from side to side like some terrified drunk running for his life. The panic attack was immeasurable; the entire city felt like it was rolling over him, and his insides tumbled with it. His lumbering sprint came to a sudden halt when his shoulder collided with the sign post that marked the bus stop, but the contents of his stomach still stampeded onwards and upwards. Bile and undigested food flooded his mouth and burst out, splattering an indescribable pigment onto the pavement.

He hadn't experienced an attack this strong in almost a year, and it felt like none of his safety nets could help.

Not his verbal exercises.

Not even his pills.

He just clutched to the post like a crutch, with his tail wrapped around his body and his eyes held tight; trying to wish away this specter from his past, but instead his prayers were answered by the approaching rumble of a car. His cracked an eye open and saw a taxi idling in front of him; the pig behind the wheel gave him an impatient look.

"Hey buddy, you need to get somewhere, or what?"

Seth loosened his hold on the post and nodded as he wiped the remaining sick from his muzzle with the back of his paw. "Yeah, uh… Riverside station."

The cabbie seemed to consider it for a moment and then jerked his head to the side, beckoning him over. "Alright, hop in. But don't think you can go making a mess in my cab, comprende?" The last part was punctuated by an accusatory jab of a hoofed finger.

So Stoutwell did as he was told, and hopped in, not looking back at the prison, content in knowing that it was growing ever more distant from him as the cab drove away, leaving behind a fox that he'd rather not know.

* * *

Later that evening, Seth found himself standing on the stoop of a brownstone townhouse, knocking on the door for the second time, hoping to be heard over the loud music that was thumping through the walls and out onto the street. As he waited, he blew hot breath into his cupped paws, trying to stay warm in the cold Tundratown breeze.

Growing impatient, Seth raised his paw to give a third knock, but ended up batting at air, as the door finally swung open, basking him in a cacophony of noise. Holding open the door was a casually dressed brown wolf who didn't seem to notice Seth standing there. He craned his head left and right before finally looking down to see the raccoon in front of him. The look on the wolf's face was not very friendly, to say the least.

"H-hey, I'm-"

"Fuck off," the wolf snarled, and slammed the door in his face. Seth was caught a little off guard by the poor reception and was still sorting out what he should do next, when his ears picked up a muffled conversation on the other side. It wasn't easy to make it all out, but it sounded like someone asked the wolf who was at the door. He then heard the wolf say something dismissive and specist about raccoons, followed by a sharp, pained yelp. The door suddenly swung back open, this time by a grey wolf in a blue tracksuit.

"Hey! Seth! Kak dela?" The grey wolf had a mile wide grin and reeked of beer. "Yorgi said you were coming. Glad you could make it! Come. Come!" He ushered Seth inside, where other various wolves stood around, drinking and chatting with each other. Seth spotted the brown one among the party guests, looking embarrassed with his tail between his legs and a paw rubbing his sore snout. "Don't mind Bartosz," he said with a chuckle. "He's new, and stupid. Hey, Bartosz, apologize to Seth!"

"Sorry Seth," Bartosz mumbled.

"Heh. It's okay," Seth felt a little sorry for him; nothing worse than being the wolf who gets disciplined in front of the pack. "Hey, uh, Mikhail, where's Yorgi?" he asked the grey wolf. He rarely visited Yorgi's place without being immediately scooped up and molested by him, so his absence was unusual.

"Ehh… He's, how you say, preoccupied at the moment." As if on cue, a loud, feminine moan came from the second floor. "Speaking of which," Mikhail guided Seth over to a few wolves who were loitering by the stairs, "Vladek was just telling us about a ewe he hooked up with."

"Privyet, Seth," Vladek, a black wolf, greeted Seth; the other members of the group also offered similar welcomes as he joined them. "Now, where'd I leave off..?" Vladek asked himself, taking a drag on a cigarette. "Oh, right. So I'm on my back, and this girl is riding me like no tomorrow. I mean, she was bouncing around like some manic pillow. Wool everywhere." He took another drag. "And she's saying all kinds of crazy shit, you know? Stuff like 'gimmie your big red balloon, baby!'"

"Fuckin' sweaterbrains," one of the other wolves chuckled, shaking his head.

"Eh," Vladek shrugged. "Don't knock 'em 'til you tried 'em. Anyways, it wasn't long before I knotted. She felt that good. And when she finally calmed down, she looked right at me, all panting and smiling. Just a hot mess. And that's when I notice her eyes." He held a finger at each of his eyes for emphasis. "One still had a lovely, green, round iris, but the other…" He paused for dramatic effect. "The other had a creepy brown rectangle." Several of the listeners openly shuddered at the mental image. "The girl wore cosmetic contacts, and one of them must've popped out when she was riding me. Spooked me so bad I tried to buck her right off my lap. But I couldn't, you know? I was still tied right inside her, and she doesn't know what's going on, so she thinks I'm already going for round two. I'm trying to throw her off, and she's holding on tight. It was so fucking crazy."

"So what'd you end up doing about it?"

Vladek smirked and killed off the last bit of his cigarette. "What else? I gave her round two. And three. And four. Last I heard, she still can't walk a straight line!"

The group burst into laughter, with some of them heartily patting Vladek on the back. Once they settled down and moved on to small talk, Seth broke off from them to get a beer from the kitchen. He was just passing the living room couch when he heard a familiar voice say "Little Bandit, no hellos for your old friend Georg? I'm hurt."

He stopped and turned to see Georg relaxing on the couch, illuminated in the glow of the nearby television, calmly rolling a joint. Seth wasn't sure how he missed him when he scanned the room earlier, considering Georg was the solitary cougar in a house full of wolves, but Georg had a knack for blending into a crowd.

"Sorry about that Georg," Seth apologized, as he ambled over and climbed up onto the couch, taking a seat next to the cougar. "How's it going?"

"Few complaints, Little Bandit." He then gave a last lick on his spliff and reached into his rumpled tweed jacket, producing a zippo. "Few complaints. And you?"

"Same as always, I guess," he shrugged. "Not much excitement in the world of paper-pushing, you know?"

"Still a desk jockey, eh? Don't worry. Someday your prince will come."

Seth snorted at Georg's little wisecrack, and glanced at the TV. The sound was low and inaudible over the loud music, but it wasn't hard to discern what was being discussed on the news program that was currently broadcasting, thanks to the helpful chyron at the bottom of the screen; 'Mayor Swinton Discusses TAME Act with Community Leaders'. The video playback showed Zootopia's porcine mayor shaking paws and hooves with various mammals in suits, and then cut to a close-up interview shot of a well-dressed elephant, with the caption changed to 'Real Estate Mogul Tom Ivory Speaks in Support of Swinton'.

The news had switched over to a report on an electrical fire at a comedy club called Comics Anonymous, when Georg finally broke the brief silence between them. "I feel there is something else bothering you. Yes?"

Seth exhaled uncomfortably and rubbed his forearm. "Yeah… You know that guy who saved my tail at the drug bust?"

"Officer Koala?"

"Qantas," Seth corrected him. "But yeah, him. I, ah… I visited him at prison today and- Well…" It was difficult to come out and say it, but he knew he had to get this off his shoulders. "I sorta…. Ran into Trevor."

"Sokin syn," Georg cursed bitterly. "What happened?! I swear, if that soo-kah blyat tried to-"

"Whoa, easy," Seth raised his paws in an effort to calm his friend down. "He didn't say or do anything. I don't think he even knew I was there. It just- It just shook me up to see him again." And then it occurred to him to add, "Uh, better not mention it to Yorgi. You know how he'd react." Georg's little outburst was minor in comparison to the tirade of swearing and thrown bottles that Yorgi would have broken into.

"Of course," Georg knowingly nodded. "We wouldn't want him to ruin his own party."

"Yeah, what is he celebrating anyway?"

"Big things, Little Bandit." George grinned and took a puff of his joint. "Very big. But I'm sure he'll be dying to tell you. Our Yorgi loves to boast, after all." Suddenly there was the loud bang of a door being kicked open on the second floor. "Speak of the devil…"

Seth pulled himself up the back cushion of the couch to get a better view of the stairwell, and saw Yorgi strutting down, still pulling a stained tank top over his head. The wolf's white fur was all messed up; no doubt from rolling around with the lady friend Seth had heard moaning earlier. Almost every guest offered him a handshake or a pat on the back as he passed by them, but it was Mikhail who halted him and leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. A big toothy grin spread across his muzzle as he looked in Seth's direction with a gleeful twinkle in his eyes.

"Here we go," Seth sighed in resignation.

"Seth! You came! Hah ha!" Yorgi roared as he dashed across the room and snatched him up into a rough embrace, tousling his fur and vigorously nuzzling against him. Normally Seth would have objected to being treated like some newborn cub, but he knew that when it came to Yorgi's overzealous affections, there was no stopping him. "Ahh! All my friends are here! I feel so loved!"

"It's good to see you too," Seth said, trying not to choke on the strong musk of sex that emanated from the wolf's fur. "Georg was just telling me you have big news."

"Oh yes! Very big," Yorgi said brightly, still cradling Seth like a toddler. "Many good things for us Blizzard Street boys! You'll be so proud of your big brother-"

"Hey, Yorg?" An aloof female voice piped up from behind them, and Yorgi spun around to face an emaciated she-wolf that stood unevenly by the stairs. "I'm taking off, kay? I gotta work early tomorrow and- Oh." Her face shifted into a sultry, predatory smile as she slinked over. "Is that little Seth? Mmm… On second thought, maybe I'll stick around if he wants to play with me." She stuck out a claw to tickle his chin, but Seth sharply recoiled, avoiding her touch.

"I'm good, thanks," he flatly rebuffed her.

"Go home, Anka," Georg grumbled.

"Humph. Fine," Anka snorted in a disappointed tone and turned to leave. "Bye boys," she cooed, playfully swishing her tail against the other wolves as she sashayed out of the house.

"I don't know what you see in that mongrel," muttered Georg, earning a swat to the back of his head from Yorgi.

"That's because you have no appreciation for untamed ladies," Yorgi snapped, placing Seth back down on the couch. "Now make yourself useful and get our little brother something to drink. Seth. You still drink bourbon, yes?"

"Sure."

"Good. I got you a bottle of Tigr Krovi. Very nice brand from the old country. You'll like it."

"I thought Tundrastan was more known for its vodka…"

"They can make other things," Yorgi objected with a slightly insulted whine. "Tundrastani corn not good enough for you?" He snatched the flask-sized bottle from Georg's paws and thrust it at Seth. "Here. You try it and tell me it's no good."

Seth briefly looked at the label. 'Tigr Krovi' was written on it in that unusual Tundran alphabet, and it bore the hallmark of the Tundrastan flag; a yellow tooth and claw crossing each other over a red star. He unscrewed the bottle, sniffed the contents, and took a swig. It was actually not bad at all.

"You see? Never doubt your brothers!" Yorgi crowed.

"Fair enough," Seth chuckled and tipped some more to his lips. "So, as you were saying?"

"Hm? Oh! Yes! Very exciting. Make room," he shooed Georg aside and hopped onto an open spot on the couch between them. "Your big brother and his crew have been attracting attention 'upstairs', if you know what I mean."

Seth scrunched up his snout in confusion for a moment before it hit him. "Ohh… When you said 'big', you meant 'BIG'. As in-"

"As in Mister, yes," Yorgi confirmed with childish joy.

"Yeah… I don't think I should be hearing this."

"No, no. It's all good. Honest."

"How?" Seth skeptically narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"You know how howler is on the rise?"

"Kinda. Yeah."

"Well lately it's starting to pop up in Tundratown. On Big's turf. And not just that, but some of his protected businesses-"

"You mean racketeering victims," Seth interjected.

"Potayto, potahto," Yorgi countered. "Anyway. They've been getting hit like never before. Robberies, vandalism, you name it."

"No one knows who's behind it, and nobody is talking to Big's men," Georg chimed in.

"Let me guess." Seth had a clearer idea of where this was going. "They're looking for outside eyes and ears to help track down whoever's moving in on them."

"And we just got vetted and accepted by their underbosses," Yorgi proudly clapped a paw to his chest.

Seth was not as impressed as they had expected. "You're mob informants."

"Community watch," Yorgi corrected him. "Do I have to remind you again about potatoes?"

"Alright, well I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that this 'community watch' will also be reporting any police activity in Tundratown too. Am I right?"

Yorgi and Georg exchanged a glace with each other before sheepishly smiling and shrugging at Seth in mock innocence. "Maybe…"

"Yeah. No. I don't want to hear another peep about it, because I know what's coming next."

"What?" Yorgi asked with feigned ignorance.

"You know darn well."

"Come on." Yorgi tried to wrap a paw around Seth's shoulder, but he just squirmed away from the embrace. "There's no shame in helping your brothers. One paw washes the other, as they say."

"Yorgi…" Seth growled.

"Think about it. You let us know what you hear; we let you know what we hear. We move up in the family, and you," he playfully patted Seth on the head, "you become top cop. Sounds pretty good. Yes?"

"No. It doesn't."

Yorgi held up his paws in defeat and sighed. "Okay. Okay. I'll drop it." He gave Seth's head another pat and raised up from the couch. "But if you ever need your brother's help, I'll be happy to give it. Remember that." And then he walked off to chat with his other guests, while Seth sat there, not sure if he should remain irritated over Yorgi's scheming, or feel bad that he had turned him down.

"Don't worry about him, Little Bandit," Georg said as soon as Yorgi was out of earshot. "He knew you'd say no. After all, he thinks very highly of you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Georg replied with a smirk. "And I think maybe me too."

Seth softly laughed to himself and took another pull on his drink. He had trouble holding the same level of esteem for himself, but it was nice to know that at least his friends did.

Even if they were petty criminals.

* * *

A couple hours later, Seth had left the party and wandered out into the cold dark night, still carrying the bottle of bourbon that Yorgi gave him. He had only nursed his way through a quarter of it, but he still felt moderately tipsy, so he figured he'd take the long way to the next metro station, just past the Maritimus Bridge, and let himself sober up a little.

Alcohol has a strange effect on one's mood. Sometimes it helps mammals forget their troubles, or, in Seth's case, brings them back to the forefront. And not just the things that were bothering him back at the prison, but also what he had been dealing with every day at work since he transferred.

Sure, he had been making new strides in his recovery. He wasn't ashamed to walk around with his visible scars. He had been getting well acquainted with Nick, something that he never imagined he could do with a fox again; trusting one.

And yet he was still just a filing clerk among cops. He was still viewed as a walking problem by Chief Bogo. He was still stagnating in his career.

And it didn't feel like that could ever change.

Midway along the bridge, he stopped to lean over the guardrail meant for smaller mammals, and peered into the deep blue water that flowed below. Chunks of ice and snow drifted along with the current, leaving him to wonder where it all came from; where it was going.

Where he was going.

With a heavy sigh, he raised the bourbon to his mouth, and in a moment of carelessness the bottle slipped from his paw, and over the bridge. He instinctively lunged partway over the rail to catch it, but it was too late, and the bottle splashed into the water. He closed his eyes in frustration and cursed under his breath. His bad day just seemed to keep getting worse.

"Oh my gosh! Don't do it!"

Seth hardly had a second to react to the shrill female voice when he was suddenly tackled by a white and grey blur, knocking him off the rail and onto the cold snow-covered pavement. The impact left him stunned and speechless. He tilted his head forward to see that he was assaulted by a rabbit, who was now clutching at his shirt, ranting hysterically about the preciousness of life, with her face buried into his chest.

"W-what?" Seth finally sputtered through his confusion.

And then she raised her face at him, and he saw her proper in the light of the lamps overhead. She was a white rabbit, with areas of dark ashen fur that covered her ears and surrounded her eyes and mouth. A pair of big round glasses hung low on her twitching nose, and behind those were a pair of brilliant rose-pink eyes, which welled up with tears as she cried out "You have so much to live for!"

"Ohmygawd, Carol!" Another female voice called out from further down the bridge. Seth cocked his head to the side to look past the bunny and saw that a trio of ladies were rushing over.

"Get off of him!" One of the girls, a marmot in a yellow toque, tugged the rabbit by the collar of her coat, yanking her off of Seth.

"We are sooo- SO sorry," a weasel in a green parka apologized profusely as she tried to help him back to his feet.

"She really hit him hard. Even his wallet fell out," a possum in a black wool coat observed, picking up Seth's open wallet from the ground, only to abruptly jump in shock, tossing it in the air like she just realized she was actually holding a snake. "Oh geez! He's a cop," she yelped. "Carol just beat up a cop!"

The weasel quickly recovered Seth's wallet, thrust it into his paws, and then proceeded to zip around him, brushing the snow off his fur and straightening his clothes in a servile panic.

"What were you thinking?!" The marmot was livid; pacing around the rabbit with her paws flailing and gesticulating wildly.

The rabbit seemed to shrink and wilt under her friend's diatribe, offering only a soft reply of "I was only trying to help," as her sole excuse for her behaviour.

"Honestly," the marmot grunted, roughly grabbing her friend by the arm to drag her away. "I swear this is the last time I invite you out for drinks…"

The other two girls looked back and forth between Seth and their friends, unsure if it was really okay to just take off like this. After uncomfortably shifting her feet, the possum broke off first, followed by the weasel, who was still chirping sorry over and over as she skittered away, leaving Seth standing there, dumbstruck, with his wallet still clutched between his paws.

"What?" he repeated as he watched them hurry off; taking their circus of confusion with them.

Even when he was sitting in the subway car going home, he was in a daze; unable to process what just transpired on that snowy bridge. It just seemed like such a random and bizarre incident, something to forget and move on from, that he didn't realize at that time just how important this encounter would be for him. But in the coming days he would grow to appreciate it as a moment he could never forget.

It was the first time he met Carol.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the morning after, and even as he was walking into Precinct One the events of yesterday were still floating about in Seth's head like tethered boats in a storm. If it wasn't bad enough that he had to worry about the S.S. Qantas crashing against the rocks and sinking, he also had a mild hangover from the bourbon hindering his already unbalanced sea-legs. And even then, he still had to make his way down the pier to deal with the Z.S.F. My Whole Goddamn Career Is a Crock, which had been taking on water long before the clouds had rolled in.

Not to mention the H.M.S. Who the Hell Tackled Me Last Night.

"Good morning Seth," a gregarious foghorn bellowed from the other end of the lobby. Normally Seth would have appreciated the bright welcome, but today Clawhauser's sunny disposition only served to shine obscenely in his face, irritating him like a malicious lighthouse. "You're certainly Mister Popular today!"

"Eh?" Seth squinted in confusion and slowed his pace as he approached the front desk where the robust cheetah stood. He could only hope that this wasn't Ben's way of softening him up for the news that Chief Bogo found some new way of keeping him in line.

"Mm hm!" Clawhauser beamed and nodded eagerly, clearly not noticing the ill grimace on Stoutwell's face. "You got a call this morning," he then leaned over his desk and cupped a paw to the side of his mouth, "from a lady who was very interested in you."

Before waiting for Seth's reaction, Clawhauser sprung back up to full height and suppressed a giggle behind both paws.

"Is that so..?" Seth could only awkwardly adjust his tie at this unexpected moment of high school level gossiping.

"Uh huh," Ben flapped his head with a mile-wide grin. "She asked if you were working here."

"Me? Specifically?"

"Well," he rolled his eyes and head in unison, "she asked if a raccoon was working here."

"Oh." The look of disillusionment was barely masked on Seth's face.

"Oh! But she was definitely looking for you specifically. She even described you to a tee."

"Let me guess," Seth sighed, "black mask, ringed tail, greyish fur?"

"And that navy coat you own," Ben cheerfully added.

"Well at least it wasn't all just generalizations…" Seth muttered to himself. "Did she leave a message or a number to call her at?"

"Uh uh, she just asked a lot of questions about you." Clawhauser immediately caught the concerned look Seth shot him and clarified, "Oh, don't worry, I would never, ever, give out a fellow officer's confidential details."

Stoutwell breathed a sigh of relief.

"Which was a good thing," Clawhauser continued, "because she only wanted to know what your hobbies were, your favorite food, favorite snacks, if you had any allergies, were diabetic, or if you were gluten-free."

"Gee, thanks for taking that call," Seth deadpanned. If Clawhauser was any worse with sharing his likes and dislikes, he'd be the new Muzzlebook.

"Don't mention it! Oh, wait, one more thing."

Against his better judgment, Seth halted his attempt to slip away and avoid further news of his newfound 'popularity'.

"Yeah?"

"Just before you arrived, there was a delivery-mammal with something big for you. I had it sent up to your office, so it'll be waiting for you on your desk. No need to thank me, but…" He smiled and wiggled his shoulders, with his tail dancing behind his back. "If you find anything in there that you think a certain helpful friend might like…"

"Uh, sure." Seth replied, feeling unclear on what this delivery was about. "I'll see what I can do."

As much as he was curious about what was waiting for him in his office, Seth decided to take a detour at the precinct's break room, feeling a desperate need for coffee to face the day. Only a few officers lounging around the canteen offered him mild greetings, as most of them were already engaged in a conversation with McHorn.

Apparently Bogo had finally made good on his threats of revoking McHorn's animal control spray privileges, due to him receiving another complaint of dousing a sleeping vagrant without cause. Seth would have felt sorry for him, but he warned the rhino of this outcome weeks ago.

Why McHorn came to his fellow officers for advice if he wasn't going to take it, Seth would never understand.

After adding several spoonfuls of that terrible non-dairy whitener power that Francine insisted on stocking in the canteen, followed by multiple packets of that aspartame crap she also forced on everyone at the expense of the petty cash, Seth was moderately satisfied enough with his cup of coffee to continue on to his office; better known as Records & Documents.

He was walking into his office with a full mouth of almost-but-not-quite coffee when he saw it sitting there on his desk, all wrapped in plastic, the biggest damn gift basket he ever saw in his life.

Suffice to say, the gulp of coffee did not go down without incident, as he was left coughing and sputtering at the surprise.

"Jeez," Seth murmured as he unthinkingly wiped his muzzle with his necktie. "Clawhauser wasn't kidding."

He would have enjoyed the moment of surprise a little bit longer, but he suddenly realized he just used a piece of his uniform like a napkin. So he hastily spat on his paw and tried to wipe out the stains of caffeine in a fit of desperation, worrying about how he might earn some new demerits from the chief if the brownish spot didn't come out.

Having cleaned up as much as he could, Seth quickly closed the door to his office and dropped all the blinds that covered the windows that faced into the hallway. He wasn't sure what he did to deserve such a gift, and it was frankly making him feel a bit guilty, like the time he had peeked at his Christmas presents early when he was ten and put on the most transparent act of surprise for his father a week later.

Seth approached the giant basket with the same level of caution they trained cadets to use when handling suspicious packages before the bomb squad would arrive. Behind the clear cellophane he could see all sorts of treats and trinkets, and tied to the top of the plastic bundle with a big blue ribbon was a printed note-card that read 'Another Friendly Custom Gift Basket from Friendly Sunshine Greetings (LLC)' on the cover, and on the flip-slide was Seth's name and the address of Precinct One.

Satisfied that there was no mistaking that this was for him, Seth went to work with his dexterous paws and unwrapped the package to take stock of the swag inside. Seeing the full contents completely unobscured, he could only whistle in appreciation.

There was a tin of salted cashews, a bag of honey roasted peanuts mixed with honey roasted bees, a trio of those rainbow colored sugar cookies on dowels, small jars of marmalade and jam, sea salt breadsticks that seemed to go with said marmalade and jam, a small bag of gourmet dark roast coffee, a coffee mug that-

"Is this hand painted?" Seth asked out loud as he held it close and scrutinized the stylized picture of a raccoon on the mug. It was wearing an old-timey police uniform and was blowing a whistle while wagging a truncheon. It was a little bit cutesy for his usual tastes, but he had to admit it still carried some charm.

Placing down the mug, he peeked back into the basket to see what else was left of the booty. Among the remaining items was a large white chocolate pretzel that was zig-zagged with a ribbon of dark chocolate. Seth set it aside, figuring Clawhauser might appreciate the sugary treat, and returned his attention back to the last two items; one, a plain white envelope with his name written on it, and the other, an item that really brightened up his day.

"Sardines? Ver~ry nice..." Seth happily grinned at the tin of oily fish and immediately got to work withdrawing the can's key to peel back the lid. Today was starting to look up.

After sucking back the third piece of fishy goodness, Seth exhaled with satisfaction and picked up the remaining envelope. It was held shut with a little gold sticker of a smiling sun, the hallmark of the Friendly Sunshine Greetings Company. Unclasping the envelope, Seth pulled out a card that bore the same style of hand painted artwork as the mug, this time presenting a scene of a raccoon looking dizzy with a cartoonish bandage on his head; next to him was a rabbit that looked embarrassed, as evidenced by exaggerated sweat drops emitting from its head as it was offering the raccoon a boxed present in apology. Slipping a fourth sardine into his mouth, Seth flipped the card open and read the message within.

'I'm really, really sorry we had to "run into each other" like that.'

'I hope that this helps make up for everything, and that it brightens your day a little.'

'Yours truly,'

"Carol Courser." Seth read the last line aloud and sat down in his desk chair, staring at the letter ponderously; piecing together the details.

The gift basket came from that rabbit who knocked him off the bridge railing last night, that much was clearly obvious. She must have also been the one who called for him earlier, considering that she used the coat he was wearing to describe him.

But how did she figure what precinct he was at?

Seth was considering the ridiculous possibility that this bunny, Carol, had actually planned to go through every precinct in numeric order until she found him, when there was a knock at his door and Officer Wilde strolled in.

"Hey Stout, what do you call an elderly bear when they lose their denture- Well, well," Nick halted his daily groaner the moment he saw the mountain of goodies on Seth's desk. "Aren't we Mister Popular today?"

"Appears so." Seth shyly smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, getting the feeling that this was going to be the phrase of the day. "You, ah, want one of these cookie dowel things?" He asked as he plucked one from where it was embedded in the basket's bedding.

"Do I want one?" Nick pressed a finger to his muzzle in mock contemplation. "Yes, yes I do." He then sauntered over to the line of masking tape that bordered the first two thirds of Seth's office and stretched a paw over the line to accept the treat from Stoutwell, who held it out at a full arm's length.

Although Seth had grown more accustomed to Nick's presence since transferring to Precinct One, he still kept the artificial barrier, dubbed the 'Comfort Zone' by Nick, in effect, albeit with the acceptable distance shrinking on a weekly basis.

Come the holidays, maybe Seth might even move it into paw-shake range.

Hugs were more of a next year possibility, however.

"You and Judy seem to do that a lot, the question thing, what's up with that?"

"Ehh," Nick shrugged and bit off a piece of the cookie. "It's sort of an in-joke, really. So what's with the basket? Bogo isn't having you file office gifts now, is he?"

"Not yet, thank god," Seth chuckled and shook his head. "You actually wouldn't believe it, but I was on the way back from my friend Yorgi's place and this rabbit comes from out of nowhere and-"

"You in here Nick?" Judy popped her head around the doorway, interrupting Seth.

Given her sense of hearing and speed, Seth was almost certain Judy planned these sort of timely arrivals on purpose.

"Oh wow," Judy's eyes widened at the attention-grabbing basket as she walked in. "Well aren't we Mister Popular today?"

"I already said that," Nick smirked, nibbling his cookie-on-a-stick. "Try to stay at least two steps behind me, Carrots."

The teasing remark earned Nick a backhanded slap to his gut from Judy, as she gave him an unamused snort.

"Actually," Seth piped up as he held out one of the other cookies for Judy, "Clawhauser beat the both of you to that. Just saying."

"Heh," Nick playfully nudged Judy. "Figures that you two dorks would think alike."

Judy shot Nick a withering glare as she accepted Seth's offering. "You just told me that you said it too. What makes you the exception?"

"Because I'm exceptional." Nick replied, leaning in close to her with a big smug grin on his face. "By the way, nice 'wawie-pop' you got there, Fluff."

Neither Seth nor Judy noticed it at first, but he had managed to give her the only cookie-on-a-stick out of the trio that was round and shaped like a giant sucker, making her appear more childlike than usual.

"Switch," Judy grumbled, and Seth quickly swapped it with the remaining cookie, which matched the narrow corkscrew style of Nick's one.

There were those around the precinct who joked about Nick and Judy acting like a married couple. Seth wasn't entirely sure about that, but they at least seemed like the cutest domestic disturbance he would probably ever encounter.

"So I heard you went to visit Qantas at prison yesterday," Judy stared at her snack, contemplating the first bite, "Is he doing okay?"

"Way to change the subject, Hopps. Stout was about to tell me about this rabbit, when you butted in- Wait, you were at the prison yesterday?" Nick cocked his head at Seth with an uncharacteristic look of concern.

Judy on the other hand, scrunched her nose up at Seth in confusion. "What about a rabbit?"

Seth tried to hide himself behind his mug, drinking some coffee, but it was now both terrible and cold, so he spat it back and set the ZPD mug down next to his new one.

"Okay, first off, yes, I visited Qantas to see how he was doing. He's fine, by the way."

No he wasn't.

"And secondly, as I was explaining to Nick a moment ago, I was coming back from a friend's last night, and this hysterical rabbit thought I looked like I was going to jump off a bridge for some reason- No, no I wasn't." He raised his paws akimbo in assurance to the brief wide-eyed looks the two partners were giving him. "But she thought I was, so she sorta, well… tackled me."

Nick nearly choked as he tried to hold back a snicker at that last bit.

"Anyways," Seth continued with a deadpan look on his face, passing over the apology card to Nick to have a look. "I guess she must've felt bad about it, because I walk in today and she sent me this basket here."

"Huh. Sounds like something you'd do, Hopps." Nick wryly stated as he glanced at the card before passing it over to Judy. "Maybe someone you know?"

"Oh please," Judy groaned as she snatched the card from his paw. "Like every rabbit knows each other- Oh." Judy's eyebrows bounced up in surprise at the message written on the inside "Actually, I do know her."

"What? Seriously?" Nick's smirk immediately dropped.

"You know Carol-"

"Courser, yeah," Judy cut Seth off. "I should've recognized her art style on the card, but yeah, we went to high school together. Hung out in drama class, mostly."

"Oh great," Nick rolled his eyes. "Another rabbit who knows how to overact a death scene."

"Actually dying was my specialty, Carol's was crying on cue."

"You said she was acting hysterical, Stout? Hope you checked your wallet."

"Carol wouldn't be the sort of bunny to rob anyone, Nick." Judy retorted. But then she tilted her head to the ceiling and tapped her chin with the edge of the card. "Although… What's she doing in Zootopia? Last I saw her, she was set to get engaged and planned to start a family back in Bunnyburrow."

"Maybe she was visiting friends?" Seth theorized. "She was out with a couple other ladies last night."

"No, if she was she'd definitely call me too."

"Maybe she unfriended you for ditching the burrows to be a big city cop," Nick joked.

"No," Judy shook her head, ignoring the obvious sarcasm, and handed the card back to Seth. "If Carol latches onto you, she does not jump ship without a fight. Trust me."

Eying the pile of snacks on his desk, Seth felt something ominous and worrisome about that last part.

But before he could ask Judy for more details on this supposed barnacle of a bunny, his intercom crackled to life and the voice of Clawhauser came in through the static.

"Um, Officer Stoutwell?"

A proper greeting? Not good.

Seth exchanged a silent glance with Nick and Judy and then leaned over his desk to press the intercom button. "Yes, Officer Clawhauser?"

"There's a, ah… fox here to see you."

Seth and Judy immediately turned to Nick, who raised his paws in defense.

"Don't look at me. I'm standing right here."

"We- Ah- I will be right down."

Without another word, the three of them scampered out of Records & Documents and made their way down to the front lobby.

They were still skidding across the polished stone flooring when the scent hit them. For Nick and Judy, it was unfamiliar and understandably unpleasant, but for Seth there was something recognizable about this distinctive odor of garbage and unwashed fur.

By the time they had come around the front desk and saw the fox Clawhauser was struggling to have a polite conversation with while covering his nose with a Gazelle branded handkerchief, Seth's suspicions were correct.

Standing there in a ratty, old, threadbare coat was Old Red, the homeless fox that once helped Stoutwell on his first, and only, investigation.

"We~ell," Red's face lit up the moment he caught sight of Seth. "Good morning, Officer! How are you on this fine morning?"

"Mister Red, ah, g-good morn-" Before Seth could finish his sentence, the old fox was already right in his face, clapping one paw on Seth's shoulder, and wrapping the other around Seth's own paw, giving it a vigorous shake. Old Red may have looked worn down and beat up, but he was certainly quicker than Seth expected.

"I am right sorry 'bout droppin' in all unannounced like, I really am, but as you may understand it's a tad bit difficult to make a phone call in my, ah, 'financial predicament'. Y'hear?"

"S-sure, sure," Seth struggled to keep himself from completely freaking out at the sudden close contact with a fox, and managed to keep it down to just his tail frizzing out as he carefully pulled himself out of Old Red's embrace. "Uh, w-what can I d-do for you?"

"Well I do hope I wasn't interruptin' nothin'…"

"Not at all," a deep baritone voice boomed from across the lobby, causing the three officers to wince and turn to see Chief Bogo marching over. "In fact, Officers Hopps and Wilde were about five minute overdue for patrol."

As he stopped by the small gathering by the front desk, he peered down at Nick and Judy, cocking an eyebrow at the doweled cookies in their paws, which they immediately tucked behind their backs in embarrassment.

"You can finish those in your cruiser. Now get to it."

Without hesitation, the two officers scampered off in the direction of the motor pool, uttering a quick 'see you later' at Seth as they left him at the mercy of Bogo.

"Now, Officer Stoutwell, I believe you also have your own duties to attend to, so if you would be so kind as to say goodbye to Mister-"

"Please, 'Red' will do jus' fine," Old Red interjected, beaming up at Bogo with his mostly toothless smile. "An' it's his duties I am in most dire need of, suh."

"Is that so?" Bogo's question came so icily, Seth could almost see the Chief's breath fog up.

"Yessuh," Red replied, unfazed by the sudden drop in Bogo's demeanor. "You see, a friend of mine has gone missin' recently, an' since me an' Officer Stoutwell here, fine young mammal that he is, have ourselves a little history together, I was figurin' he might be so kind as to help me locate my, ah, absent friend."

"I see." Bogo only gave Seth the slightest glance before inhaling and straightening his posture. "Well if it's a missing mammal case, then it would be better suited for one of our detectives to handle, rather than someone of Officer Stoutwell's… position."

In other words, leave it to the professionals, and not the problem-case filing clerk.

Old Red's affable disposition waned a little at the suggestion, and he gave the raccoon a somewhat disappointed look. "Well, if that's how it is-"

"Just let the kid take it," a new, gruff voice chimed in, and this time it was Bogo's turn to pivot around with everyone else.

Leaning against Clawhauser's desk, staring down at an open racing form, was one of the ZPD's senior detectives, the king cheetah Detective Atkins.

Two things ran through Stoutwell's mind as he took notice of the detective's sudden and unexpected presence.

First, Atkins might actually be better at this timely arrival game than Judy.

And second, Clawhauser looked really, really fat when standing next to other cheetahs.

"Detective Atkins, I see you're fashionably late for duty. Again." Bogo grunted.

"More like right on time, Chief." Atkins tucked his racing forms under his arm and shot Bogo a most insincere grin. "Anyways, let the kid take it. We're too busy for a missing mammal case right now."

"Is that so?" Bogo's expression started to sour by a minute.

"Mm hm. Missing mammal cases are very, very, time consuming. Even moreso if the mammal is homeless, which I'm assuming is the case. Am I right, Red?"

"Yessuh, that is correct."

"So time consuming they often take back-seats for higher priorities, which is always a shame, isn't it, Chief?"

Atkins seemed to be taking some enjoyment from this, but Seth could only squirm uncomfortably at being caught in the middle of whatever issue these two had between them.

"Now, as I'm currently working on that string of vandalisms in Downtown with Otterly, I will have to pass on accepting the case."

'Can he do that?' Seth thought to himself.

"Fine," Bogo nearly snarled. Seth didn't even know cape buffaloes could snarl. "I'll put Fournier on it."

"Still working on that suspected arson at the bodega on Grass Street."

"Oats."

"On that joint taskforce with Lyca from Precinct Seven in Tundratown."

"Raj."

"Following a lead on the howler dealings going on in Riverside."

Bogo was about to open his mouth to say another detective name, but the mockingly expectant look on Atkin's face cut him short. He could keep naming detectives for the next hour and Atkins would just throw more excuses right back at him, and they all knew it.

"Let the kid take it," Atkins repeated yet again, unfolding his racing form and returning back to leaning against the front desk. "It's simple, safe, and gets him out of your horns for a couple days. You have nothing to lose."

Bogo stared a hole into Atkins for a few moments, and then turned his gaze back to Seth and Red before he snorted in frustration.

"Fine. You have three days to make some progress in this investigation."

"Actually, I am off duty tomorrow, so…" Stoutwell regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth.

"Four days," Bogo grunted, leaning in closer so Seth could feel the heat of his breath billowing out his snout. "Fail to find at least any solid leads, and I will take you off this case and find someone more qualified. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes sir. Thank you sir." He would have been ecstatic that he was finally being given a legitimate chance at proving himself, but Chief Bogo remained to be the ultimate mood killer.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Mister Red," Bogo rose back to his full height and placed his hooves behind his back. "I hope that Officer Stoutwell lives up to your expectations." And with that final passive-aggressive statement, Bogo turned and walked off towards his office.

Stoutwell wasn't sure how long he had been quietly watching his boss leave the lobby, but it must have been long enough for Red to feel the need to force a cough to bring back his attention.

"Oh, right, sorry Red." Seth shook his head and turned back to the old fox. "Listen, just head up to my office and I'll be right with you to get all the details. It's on the second floor. Records and Documents."

"Records and Documents… Okay." Red nodded. He was just starting to make his away towards the elevator when he paused and turned back to Seth. "Thank you, Officer. I truly do appreciate this. Truly."

"It's no problem at all, Red." Seth replied, smiling his crooked little smile, knowing it probably was a problem after all.

"That's two you owe me," Atkins quipped, still pouring over his papers.

"W-why did you do that?!" Seth snapped at Atkins, finally feeling now was the right time to lose his cool. Though he didn't consider Clawhauser's presence, as he had been uncharacteristically silent this entire time, so unfortunately the rotund cheetah was left edging away uncomfortably at the sudden outburst.

"Because I like getting under the Chief's hide from time to time," Atkins drawled nonchalantly. "It keeps things interesting."

"Aren't you afraid of him firing you? Or worse?"

"Kid, if you want to survive in this business as long as I have, you gotta do either one of two things. You either get everyone on your side or just enough people in your back pocket."

Putting two and two together, Seth reared back and gave Atkins a surprised and scrutinizing look.

"So you're saying that you have something over Chief Bogo?"

Atkins rose back up from the desk and once again tucked away his reading material.

"Him, and others." He smirked at Stoutwell. "Remember, that's two you owe me, kid."

As the detective wandered off, Seth pondered to himself if it would have been worth the bother to point out that he was thirty-one and hardly a 'kid', but that seemed like a moot point at the moment, as he now had his first official investigation to worry about.

Oh, and one other thing.

"Sorry about all that, Clawhauser." He apologized to the chubby receptionist, who was still busy pretending to reorganize his donuts so he wasn't left standing around like the third wheel that he was. "I, ah, set aside something from that basket like you asked, so if I'm going out on this investigation today, remind me to give it to you before I leave, alright?"

Clawhauser's whiskers perked up at the promise of a free snack; the previous look of discomfort was completely dropped.

"Ooo! What'd you save me? Something good?"

"Oh yeah, one of those big pretzels." Seth grinned, feeling rather good about sharing his bounty. "Covered in white chocolate."

"Oh." Clawhauser's face immediately drooped and he returned to his donut sorting, murmuring under his breath "That's not even real chocolate…"

With his brief sense of well-being through generosity instantly deflated, Seth tsked and skulked away, muttering "I guess you just can't please everyone."


End file.
